The Duel
by MamaLaz
Summary: A one-off. Ron Weasley finally decides to teach that no good Malfoy a lesson by having a Wizard's Duel. However, things get interesting...


_A Story for Jaime. Wrote it a while ago but felt like posting it here at last. Based on our RPG. :) Please read and review. Thanks. SNiD is being finished as I write this. xxxx_

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Ron Weasley clutched the Marauders map and peered at it, squinting his blue eyes in the process. In doing so, the Gryffindor came to the sound conclusion that trying to read anything with a cloak over your head was pretty pointless. With a frown and an annoyed whisper of "Lumos", the redhead began to irritably wonder again why the heck he wasn't sleeping soundly in bed at this time of night instead of creeping around on tiptoes through the empty halls like a total prat. The answer soon appeared, literally, before his eyes. The tiny dot labelled 'Draco Malfoy' seemed to be pacing around the trophy room impatiently. 

Waiting for him. 

Ron scowled at the thought of the yelling he would have to endure from the Malfoy for his lateness. It wasn't his fault or anything. Both Harry and Hermione had spent about an hour trying to talk him out of meeting with the Slytherin. Hermione had even threatened to curse his feet flat to the floor and leave him there all night to stop him going. But they just didn't get it. This was about honour. That little ferrety prick had been just asking for this since first year. Even Ginny, who he expected to be on his side, had given him an earful. Some family loyalty. Sometimes he honestly rued the day she learnt to talk. And she probably only yapped at him like a rabid Chihuahua because of her thing for Harry. He tried not to grin. That singing valentine was bloody hilarious. He even now refused to let that one go, although Harry was starting to tell Ron to shut up about it. 

He was another one who was also beginning to get too sarky, especially towards Ron's jibing at his sister. Ron frowned. Only yesterday he was convinced that he saw Harry staring quite avidly at her chest before blushing and then talking loudly about the weather. Yes, he'd have to give his _supposed _best friend a good talking to once he got back from pulverising Malfoy…

Pulverising Malfoy. The very thought of it cheered him up. So he hurried further on, stuffing the map back into his pocket after double-checking the halls were devoid of Peeves, Mrs Norris and, most importantly, that old git Filch. As the Trophy Room came into view, he instinctively clutched his illuminated wand tighter. Was he feeling hesitant? Yes, he was. Foreboding was beginning to bubble up nastily in his stomach. And he was beginning to have second thoughts.

It wasn't that he couldn't take on Malfoy. Nah, that definitely wasn't it. But well… there was just something about the Slytherin that made him feel… uncomfortable. He definitely knew more spells than Ron, and who knows what that sadist Lucius Malfoy had taught him. Probably gave the kid a dummy with a dark mark on it when he was baby. Understandable why he was so fucked up, really. And Malfoy was a slimy, sneaky little shit who would undoubtedly cheat…

Clenching his jaw tightly and feeling very alert (the words _constant vigilance_! ringing through his ears) Ron carefully took the cloak off and slowly crept his way towards the door, poking his head through the doorway to check out the battlefield first. Almost expecting to see Malfoy rigging an elaborate trap, he felt slightly disappointed as the afore-mentioned boy just seemed to be muttering obscenities under his breath, pacing up and down in a bad-tempered fashion. He suddenly stopped, his back to the Gryffindor, and lifted his blond head up, as though suddenly hearing something. Spinning around faster than the redhead would have given him credit for, the boy caught his gaze. Fierce grey eyes clouded over and slit when they saw him, Malfoy's lips twisting into snarl that was far from happy. 

"I've been waiting here for fifteen fucking minutes!" he hissed, keeping his voice down, as he began to stride over, sparing the occasional look around in case Filch suddenly swooped down on them from the chandeliers. "I know you can't afford a watch, Weasel, but couldn't Potter or the Mudblood lend you one?"

Ron growled. Every instinct in him wanted to jump him and wallop that scornful look from his face. He held himself to the spot with great restraint.

"Call Hermione that again and I'll start cursing you now, you mangy little git," he hissed back aggressively, dropping the cloak to the floor. "Besides, I wasn't sure you'd turn up. You've got an odd habit of chickening out of Wizard Duels, Malfoy."

He'd hit a nerve. The Malfoy went slightly pink but raised his eyes defiantly. 

"I wasn't about to risk expulsion for Potter." Ron opened his mouth, but quickly changed his mind.

_'But you would for me?' _was left unsaid. That whole subject between them was already delicate. Malfoy and his stupid fucking letter sending and manipulative flirting… All the Slytherins, really. Parkinson attacking him and Zabini offering sex every other minute… Oh, he hated them. He really did. Ron clutched his wand tighter, his face set.

"Whatever, Malfoy. I don't give a shit how you pretend to yourself that you're not a complete coward. I'd like to get to sleep sometime today. So, are we duelling or what?"

Malfoy's expression grew even uglier, an audible growl sounding within his throat. When he spoke, however, he sounded as smooth as one could without sounding smarmy.

"Ten paces, poor boy," he said in a soft, silkily dangerous voice. "On the count of three?"

The redhead nearly laughed out loud. Did the blond really think he was about to fall for that? Ron shook his head, making an unimpressed and disbelieving expression as he snorted. 

"Ten paces, my arse," he said sardonically. "You'll hex me on two. You little wanker."

"Face to face paces then," the blond answered back almost placidly, eying the boy with sharp eyes before raising a brow. "And talking about your arse…"

"Stop that! Just shut your trap!" Ron said, shrilly, forgetting himself and hearing his loud words echo around the room. The Malfoy raised his eyes, looking lazily at the walls and ceiling the words bounced off before turning and smirking back at the Gryffindor, clearly pleased with the reaction. Ron just pouted at him. The git did that on purpose. He let out an angry breath. "Why do you always have to bloody well do that?!" he snapped. The Slytherin merely shrugged, that incredibly irritating look practically carved into his sharp face with a chisel.

"Because it makes you uncomfortable. I take pleasure in that."

The redhead could feel the occasional splinter in his wand dig into his hand as he squeezed it tightly. Malfoy really was a total arsehole. He hated him. He hated him. He hated him. And he was going to be in severe pain for bringing this… _this thing _ up between them. The nerve of the bastard for sending him that package and that fucking letter… Lying little conniving arse-licking prick. 

"I'm going to enjoy hexing the shit out of you," Ron said in a hard voice, the truth stone solid in his tone. Malfoy just smiled coldly.

"Then lets not waste time with the… err, _pleasantries_? Shall we start?"

"Count it down then, Ferret," Ron snarled back, never wavering from his gaze. The blond only smiled his thin smile even wider.

"Well, I can hardly leave you to do it, can I? You might confuse yourself." Ron gritted his teeth, smoke practically billowing from his nose.

"You better count down fucking fast, Malfoy, before I tell your father I'm carrying your love child." The Malfoy suddenly narrowed his eyes fiercely. That was twice now that Ron had managed to affect him. A personal record. He'd have to write down what he'd said for future Malfoy-barbing reference. Malfoy showed his sparkling white teeth, like an angry vampire who'd been denied a bite to eat.

"You dare and I'll get Blaise to jump atop that little sister of yours." Ron heard his own knuckles crack threateningly. He'd break Zabini's arms before he even thought of touching Ginny. And he'd break Malfoys for even suggesting it. How did the little shite manage to rile him up so much? Why couldn't he just contain his temper around him? How could Harry and Hermione manage to remain so calm around him? The boy practically had 'punch me' tattooed to his forehead. Ron took a deep breath, managing to get some semblance of control over his fist to stop it complying with the invisible demand he could see plastered to the boy's face.

"Just count the fuck down, Malfoy," he said, straining hold of the yell that wanted fill the atmosphere and probably get them caught by Filch. And Malfoy, oddly enough, complied. Pulling another annoyed face, the Slytherin lifted up his hand, getting into duelling position. Ron followed his lead. They glared at each other coldly before the blond softly said.

"Ten."

They both took a step back. 

"Nine."

Another step. 

"Eight."

Yet another. 

"Seven… Six… Five…"

Ron's hands were beginning to sweat.

"Four…"

He stepped back onto the hem of his robes, nearly falling over. He saw Malfoy smirk. Bastard.

"Three…"

"Two… … RICTUSEMPRA!"

It hit him right in the stomach. Ron doubled over, the breath knocked completely out of him as he fell onto his knees. Cradling his tummy, eyes and mouth completely wide in both shock and pain, he managed to look up at the caster. Malfoy was smiling at him innocently, idly fondling his wand.

"So sorry. Slip of the hand."

He was going to kill him. 

He didn't know how he gathered the strength but Ron staggered to his feet, aimed and wheezed.

"CONCUSENTENTRUS!"

At once, Malfoy started yelping and running around, throwing his arms over his head in protection as a rounders bat appeared and started to beat him about the skull, chasing him as he ran. Ron had to lean against the nearest wall to keep himself from rolling on the floor, holding his knees and shaking with uncontrollable laughter. 

Malfoy, obviously not amused, threw him a vicious look as he dodged yet another swipe at his head. Somehow managing to manoeuvre his wand, the boy rolled quite impressively onto his back to aim it at the bat.

"FINITE INCANTATEM!" Then he spun around and pointed his wand straight at Ron, gasping for breath and chest heaving up and down erratically. "ARACHNUSERPIA!" he shrieked. 

Ron nearly screamed at the sight. Thousands and thousands of tiny spiders erupted out of the blond's wand, scurrying, clicking, squirming over each other and rushing their way frenziedly towards him. He stood, wand aloft and paralysed with fright before doing what anyone would do in this situation. He jumped onto the nearest chair and screeched for the Slytherin to stop it, white in the face and shaking and waving his long arms like a windmill.

"Malfoy, you bastard!! STOP IT! Get rid of them! You fucking little…! Oh, I can feel them on me! Get them off me!!! I… wait." Ron blinked, astounded by his own stupidity. What on earth was he doing? "FINITE INCANTATEM!"

The moving carpet of spiders around Ron's chair let out an audible squeak before disappearing with a pop and a puff of smoke. They were all gone. But the damage was already done and now Malfoy was the one who could barely stand from laughing his teasing, mean laugh.

"Weasley, you're so pathetic!" he chuckled cruelly. Ron felt his face go bright red as he landed awkwardly back on the ground, glaring ferociously at the boy. This didn't stop Draco, however. "_Oh, get them off me! Get them off me!"_ Malfoy mocked in a high-pitched voice, flapping his arms as Ron has been doing. Rather like a chicken. How appropriate. The blond began a new fit of laughter, this time at his own impersonation. "How the fuck did you get into Gryffindork, Weasel?! Scared of butterflies, too? Oh, and how about ladybirds? Only someone as ridiculously insignificant as you could be terrified of something so small and unimportant…"

Every person has a boiling point. And this was Ron's. The way Malfoy laughed at him. The way he made him feel two feet tall. The way Ron actually gave a shit what he thought… 

It could have happened in slow motion, he'd memorised it so well. He sprinted straight towards the Slytherin, pulling back his fist and snarling like a crazed animal. He only had time to catch Draco Malfoy's eyes widen and his face get engulfed by the Gryffindor's towering shadow before releasing all his anger on the boy's jaw. The Slytherin's head snapped back and he fell back, losing his balance. His pale hands clutched frantically at the air and caught hold of the first thing they felt; the redhead's tie. They both went tumbling to the floor, Ron landing painfully on top of the shorter boy and digging his elbow into the boy's ribs. Malfoy 'oofed' loudly and the redhead's face landed straight into the side of the blond's neck, his nose and lips pressed against the warm skin.

Oh God. Ew ew ew!!! 

Quickly finding the feeling in his hands, he placed them flat on the floor either side of the Slytherin and tried to lift himself off him but a pair of hands suddenly grabbed his upper arms and held him rooted to the spot. Turning his face in panicked questioning to Malfoy, wondering what the heck he was up to and begging him ferociously with his gaze to let him go, the redhead stopped. The pale boy's eyes were stormy, his lips were slightly parted and his breath had caught in his throat. He looked frightened out of his wits. And, also, something else altogether. And Ron just couldn't bring himself to jump off. 

And that was when he felt very literally what Draco Malfoy was _up_ to.

The Gryffindor went scarlet, his entire body heating up before realising that he was, quite zealously, returning the favour.

And that was when he jumped up. Malfoy didn't look like he could manage it. He was still sprawled on his back, eyes wide and his lip trembling. Ron knew he looked no better. God, what was wrong with him? Why did his own body do that to him?! Why was it still doing it?! He opened his mouth to say something that could aid the situation. Something like threatening Malfoy with a broken nose if he even thought of telling anyone. Or telling him it was a joke, or that it was his wand he felt instead of his… Yes. But all Ron could manage in his mortified state was,

"I… you… Oh Gods…!" before he bolted in the opposite direction, made a swiping grab for the invisibility cloak and sprinted out the door, leaving Draco Malfoy lying on the floor and still in complete shock at what had just happened.


End file.
